Last Night on Earth
by Salysha
Summary: In the morning, Jin Kazama will die, but before, he finds solace in the long hours of the night. A cruel story with a grueling end. Slash, yaoi, Jin/Hwoarang.
1. Last Night on Earth, Three

**Disclaimer**: Tekken and Tekken characters are the property of Namco Limited. This is nonprofit fan fiction.

**Warnings**: This features m/m slash and yaoi, which means that two men are portrayed in a romantic, physical relationship. If that bothers you, skip this story and read something you are comfortable with. This story contains erotic scenes and is rated M.

**Pairing**: Jin/Hwoarang

The interested readers may look for an explicit (NC-17) version of this chapter over at AdultFanFiction (AFF). Only one chapter gets modified; the rest is posted as this original version.

* * *

**Last Night on Earth**

by Salysha

* * *

**Three**

"Hwoarang?"

Everything was catalogued and carefully planned, and they were going over the list for the final time.

"Hey."

Hwoarang had lapsed into staring at the wall. "Sorry."

"It's not too many more. Let's finish this. It... it'll be done, then." Jin threw Hwoarang a concerned look before turning back to the checklist. He read out loud every item on the list, and, again, everything checked. It had checked the last time and the one before last. They had taken care of everything and prepared for the rest, and all was accounted for, from timing and explosives to seclusion and damage control to outsiders.

"It checks," Hwoarang said finally, eyes firmly on the paper board. "You have everything covered."

Jin nodded and set the board aside. They sat in silence side by side, thighs brushing, Jin empty-handed and stealing glances at Hwoarang, and Hwoarang looking at anywhere but Jin.

Finally, Jin spoke. "It must be done," he said softly.

Hwoarang just shook his head and looked elsewhere.

"I am sorry."

* * *

They had planned this together for weeks, though time seemed to have little significance when all that was left was measured in hours. It was a story that could only have one ending, and Hwoarang had gone along with it despite his initial reaction at Jin showing up at his doorstep, asking for his help.

First, he had turned Jin down. Then, he had beaten Jin down. Even the old animus had flared, and still Jin had kept coming to him, and finally Hwoarang had given in. He had listened to the plan, argued it vehemently, and tried to beat the idea out of the man's head... but, in the end, it was he who relented.

Jin Kazama would die and take the remaining Mishimas with him. With them, the cursed bloodline would perish, and the Devil Gene would be quelled. To lure his father and grandfather into a trap, Jin had pleaded for his help.

Jin had asked his help for a cold-blooded, premeditated murder. Hwoarang had accepted, and he hated himself for it. Sometimes, he thought he hated Jin a little, too. They had discussed this many a time and, as much as he hated it, Jin had kept his resolve and taken him along. As Jin pointed out often and emphatically, he was the only one left who even tried to fight back the dark, and he was losing the battle. That, Hwoarang knew; he hadn't forgotten about his stay in the hospital, even if he had lived to tell the tale.

In the end, Hwoarang had asked one question: Why him? Jin had looked him solemnly, long enough for Hwoarang to grow agitated, before giving a response that took the anger away, "You are the only one I trust." Since then, they had planned this carefully, covered their tracks, and acquired the components necessary to fulfill the plan.

They had become close. It was painful to know that, in a few hours, all the effort they had put into finally finding friendship and a level of... affection between them would be for nothing.

* * *

"Hwoarang?"

Hwoarang snapped into attention and realized he'd phased out again. "Hmm?" When Jin didn't respond, Hwoarang finally turned to look at the man. "Yeah?"

"I am sorry."

Hwoarang sucked his lower lip and hung his head low. He knew Jin was. Despite the possessed attitude Jin had even on the best of days, he wasn't oblivious, and he wasn't... indifferent. In his mind, the man probably was sorry, which still didn't change the facts of the matter, nor the events to come... nor the fact that, once Jin would be gone, he would be left alone.

Hwoarang realized Jin was expecting an answer, and that worried look he knew Jin had upon him was beginning to shatter his calm. A lump rose in his throat, but he forced it back determinedly. He'd be fine; this was just a moment of weakness that would pass once he got on his feet.

"You're a good guy, Jin," he said. He gave Jin's thigh a pat, squeezing it lightly. "Occasionally." His gaze wandered to the floor.

Something unexpected happened then: a warm hand covered his. He raised his eyes and saw Jin looking at him anxiously. His gaze drifted on their conjoined hands and back at Jin. As he stared at Jin in near stupefaction, he descried a whole different set of emotions accompanying the anxiety. Warm fingers curled around his hand. The eyes kept searching for an answer.

For a moment, the world stood still.

As their gazes held, things started falling into place. Something about Jin he had suspected, on some level, and something about himself he had denied. Something about them both that they hadn't explored.

A number of sensations ran through his body, all very pleasant and stimulating. Tilting his head and leaning forward, not believing himself what he was about to do, Hwoarang gave in to the pull. Jin simulated his actions. They met halfway.

Tentative at first, the kiss deepened quickly and found company in others. Their hands entwined for a strong clasp and their free hands found resting places on each other's waist and biceps, respectively, as one impossibly strong kiss prolonged. Eventually, they opened their eyes and retracted from the touch of lips that seemed to carry a hint of desperation.

Unconsciously, Jin wet his lips and pulled Hwoarang up and against him. Hwoarang, light-headed from the turn of events, allowed the strong body to engulf his and reveled in the contact.

"I'm going to take a shower." Jin's breath tickled his ear. Jin pulled away to brush their lips together, and with a last, lingering touch of hands and a meaningful look, he left the room.

Hwoarang's hand traveled to his swollen lips before he realized the motion, and he ran a hand through his hair with an embarrassed chuckle. He sank onto the bed to catch his breath, which came at a worrisome pace, unfit for a fighter.

He couldn't believe he was about to do this: to go along with Kazama's latest round of folly and bed the man. Or be bedded, depending on how the evening went... A sly smirk spread across Hwoarang's face when a few uninvited but welcome scenarios played in his head. He could see himself getting off on any of them and in all of them...

The shower went on in bathroom, and here he sat by himself, held back by nothing but... and at that moment, he was again reminded of the reason that had brought them together and led them to sharing a hotel room. It could only be a one-time deal. The thought was scarring, and frantically Hwoarang forced it back and sought control over his mind again.

He'd thought about it sometimes, about what Jin would be like. So what? Spend enough time with anyone, and the mind starts wandering. It didn't mean anything.

Hwoarang also knew why Jin was playing this the way he was: he was giving him a fair chance to back away. He could just lie down and pretend to be sleeping by the time Jin returned, and they wouldn't speak of this again. As Hwoarang heard the shower running and was acutely aware of his lips—tender, courtesy of Jin Kazama— he _knew_ right then that he was about to cross the line headfirst and happily.

He took off to the bathroom, made a symbolic knock on the door, and let himself in. He paused as he caught a glimpse of dark, wet hair behind the shower curtain, took in the clothes laid aside in a pile, and, floating in his world of make-believe, started removing his own.

He shook off the discomfort. This was not the time to get bashful; they'd done the locker-room routine before. It hadn't meant anything, but this did.

As Hwoarang approached, Jin drew the shower curtain aside invitingly at the end of the tub and withdrew to the shower end.

Hwoarang stepped in.

The smallish tub wasn't meant to accommodate two, but they ignored the discomfort. The steamy air was invasive and sultry. Jin turned around at the other end, soaked and smelling fresh, even from a distance. Hair down, dripping as he spoke, and steaming hot, Jin made for a tasty sight.

"Wanna switch?"

With that, Jin relinquished the shower position. Bodies brushing, Hwoarang's front briefly connecting with Jin's backside, they reversed sides, and the pleasant, warm shower water hit Hwoarang's body. He let the water course through his hair, brushing through the bangs to allow it to sneak deeper and connect with his scalp.

Behind him, he sensed rather than felt Jin lean in. "I'll do your back," Jin murmured as he reached past him for a sponge— provided courtesy of the hotel—and lathered it with scraping noises. "That all right?"

"Hmm-mm," was all Hwoarang uttered. Galvanic pulses ran through his body, and his blood flow found a downward path at the prospect.

The slippery sponge landed on his shoulder blade first. Cheap and too small for Jin's hand in the first place, the sponge merely covered the palm, leaving the fingertips to explore Hwoarang's back with each delicious stroke. The other hand, lathered as well, kept on working the other shoulder blade, and the warmth that seeped through the touch into Hwoarang's skin had none of the feigned innocence the touch did.

Jin traveled down, bending his knees as he went. The hands caressed the small of Hwoarang's back, and vibrations of anticipation ran through the Korean's body. And yet, just as the hand and the sponge should have connected with the buttocks, they abruptly moved to the thighs.

Hwoarang groaned, and his entire body heaved. _Goddamn tease, Kazama!_ He was sure the bastard was smiling, too, and indulging himself in torturing him. Quicker now, the said tease worked his way down his legs, as if they really were in this for the washing. Then, the hands dropped, knuckles making a sound on the tub bottom almost faint enough to drown in the cascading water.

"Turn around," Jin's voice carried from somewhere below, hoarse in sound.

Hwoarang gulped. He inhaled sharply and yielded to the request.

Before Hwoarang, Jin was crouching and looking up at him, face inches away from his length, which pulsed with life. Jin opened his mouth slightly...

...and gave him a full smile, showing a set of perfect white teeth, undamaged even after years of grueling combat training.

He began the soaping and washing routine from the ankles up, maddeningly ignoring the area that needed attention the most. Not even the lascivious, unabashed gaze he devoured it with could suffocate Hwoarang's desire to make Jin pay for his game, and he controlled himself with only inhuman resolve.

And then, Jin stood at eye level with him, hands still drawing circles on his pectoral muscles, seemingly spreading the last of soap there. He leaned forward then...

...only to place the sponge and the bar back onto the rack. Their crotches met as he did, and while his demeanor could have won an acting award for the polite indifference, he was steadily at half mast. Jin pulled back and let a hand drip across Hwoarang's chest, drawing away a line of soap with it. "Come when you are ready," he said. Jin stepped out from the tub, drawing the curtain back in place, and left Hwoarang in a state between aroused and infuriated. A few moments later, the door closed as well, leaving Hwoarang by himself with the seemingly endless supply of hot water.

The Korean blinked his eye and cursed Kazama. He turned to the shower and found, despite the well-justified frustration, that the soft touches and the hot water had left his body in a relaxed state, the obvious exception to the rule notwithstanding. He gave himself an absent-minded stroke. Hwoarang allowed the water to caress his skin and stretched his neck pleasurably, feeling the water to dribble down on all sides of him.

The mirror of the bathroom was covered in condensed steam when Hwoarang stepped out of the tub. He ran a towel through his hair and gave himself a dry before pulling one across his waist. He deemed it high time to join Jin's company.

Jin was lying on the bed comfortably, knees drawn up and legs spread wide. He turned his head and smiled.

"Aren't you wearing too much?" Hwoarang raised a brow at Jin's sweatpants and t-shirt.

"Maybe." The words were coupled with grin that was almost enough to make Hwoarang weak at the knees. Within the evening, Jin had already smiled more than during the time they had known each other. As he approached the bed, head tilted and a hint of a grin that fought to surface, he noticed a couple of items on the bedside stand. Jin hadn't come unprepared.

Jin noticed and started, "I didn't assume. I mean, I didn't know if you would— would consider..." The look Hwoarang gave shut him quickly enough and brought a titillating half-smile to his lips.

Hwoarang wasted no time in capturing Jin's lips for an open-mouthed, mind-shattering kiss, and the last shreds of apprehension vanished. Jin's hands came to grip Hwoarang's back muscles, and one knee lowered to allow full contact, shredding the last doubt that Jin wasn't every bit as needy as Hwoarang. As the towel around Hwoarang's hips began to unwrap, his hand traveled to retie it tighter, but a warm hand caught his and pried it away gently, allowing the towel to fall open and them both to finally stop holding back.

* * *

Jin was latched onto his side tightly, drawing shaky breaths down his neck in an attempt to calm down from the same aftershocks Hwoarang felt. Jin's arm rested across Hwoarang's chest, heavy and heated. Through the ragged panting, Jin smiled against his neck.

Hwoarang stretched his legs and gave a sigh. Eventually, he gave Jin a nudge.

"Hmm."

"Move."

"Hmm?"

"Move, Kazama. Let me up," Hwoarang said, unable to suppress the uncharacteristic happy look that tried to latch onto his face as tightly as Jin onto his side. "Let me..." he gestured toward the bathroom, and, reluctantly, Jin relinquished his hold. "Thanks."

When Hwoarang returned, Jin had pulled pants on and was waiting for him with two glasses of bubbly, clear drink.

"What's this?"

"Just a little something." As an afterthought, Jin added, "To us."

"Yeah. Us." They clinked glasses and downed the drinks with less grace than genuine champagne would have deserved. Now that they'd calmed down and the fever had abated, the dread began to creep back in. In a few hours... Hwoarang squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head low. He felt shaky. No. It couldn't end like this.

"Don't," Jin said, his voice not so steady anymore. "Don't say it." In their heads, that translated correctly to, _Please_ _don't say anything to change my mind._ "Please, let's just go to sleep. I'll stay as long as I can."

The pleading look and the appeal in his tone made Hwoarang relent against his better judgment for one last time and abandon the impossible hope that he could still talk Jin out of his self-destructive plan; that he would make the man stay, and this story could have a different ending. "Fine," he said weakly and sunk onto the bed.

Jin lay on his side, and they made an impossibly tight bundle of limbs of each other, Hwoarang subconsciously restraining Jin the only way he could. Jin, however, lay awake long after Hwoarang had fallen asleep, haunted in the dead of night.

In the morning, the alarm rang and woke Jin, still tightly entwined with Hwoarang. He disentangled himself carefully and closed the alarm. Hwoarang remained dead to the world.

By himself in the eerily quiet room, Jin showered and prepared himself for the final act. Eventually, there was nothing left to do, no clothes to straighten or errant locks of hair to groom, no deed to do except one.

Jin made his way to the bedside, leaned down, and kissed Hwoarang on the lips. The kiss was lingering and infinitely tender. When he finally let go, Jin Kazama walked out of the hotel room and into his fate.

It was hours later that Hwoarang woke, groggy. Reality hit soon. As the bed around him felt cold, as his lonely movements sounded in the room, and as he failed to feel Jin's presence, he knew it was done. Why hadn't he woken? Why hadn't... why hadn't they said goodbye?

Distraught, Hwoarang rose. He failed to notice the bedside stand and his champagne glass, the last drops in which now glimmered a shade of turquoise.

The room was clean and organized; his clothes from the night before were folded, the towels were hung to dry, and everything was orderly. A pile of belongings was neatly laid beside his and beside the suitcase: every possession of Jin's, apart from the clothes he was wearing, was there. Hwoarang felt sick at heart.

Through his blurring vision, Hwoarang noticed a piece of folded cardboard on top of the pile. He took the card and read the message, and couldn't, wouldn't, hold back the tears.

* * *

_I love you._

_Jin Kazama_

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

**Hearty thanks** to **Gypsie** (Gypsie Rose) for the proofreading!

**Revised** November 22, 2008.  
**Published** October 7, 2008.


	2. Last Night on Earth, Two

_Notes:_ Thank you for taking interest in this story and thank you so much for the thoughtful reviews! They were a thrill to receive.

* * *

_Last Night on Earth_

by Salysha

* * *

_Two_

He didn't know what to do with himself.

Jin had insisted on booking the room for an extra day, and now he knew why: he wouldn't have been able to move. All of Jin's belongings were there, including his wallet and phone. Seeing the two items, Hwoarang almost broke down. They were the last, definitive piece of evidence that Jin had no intention of coming back or leaving himself a window to escape.

Now, the mechanical routines for the day done, he himself dressed up and showered, he was at loss what to do. There was nothing. He had left everything behind and gone with Jin. They'd been so wrapped up in each other in the good and the bad that it had left the course of his own life in oblivion, insignificant and disinteresting by comparison.

Hwoarang sat on the floor, casting a hollow stare upon the room. He didn't know what to do, or that's what he wanted to believe.

He knew he should make arrangements to leave the country: find transport to a harbor city, take a ferry ride to home, find his master, and go back to leading a life to call his own. Yet, as his gaze wandered aimlessly, unable to take anything in, he knew he didn't want to take any of these actions.

Instead, he stayed perched and staring into space misty-eyed, as his thoughts went round in circles.

* * *

One knock on the door startled Hwoarang back into cognizance and, another, into action. He blinked his vision clear and forced himself to give an air of relative normalcy as he went to the door.

He was shocked within an inch of his life when Jin stormed in, frantic and very much alive. The door slid shut as Hwoarang wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. This wasn't possible.

"Jin?"

"I couldn't do it! I couldn't do it..." Jin was verging on tears, his voice so thick it muffled the enunciation.

"Jin..."

"I couldn't...," Jin said with sharp intake of breath and looked through Hwoarang, his eyes clouded. He fidgeted, but, unable to decide a course of action, remained swaying on his feet, looking utterly confused and lost.

It was the most animated Hwoarang had ever seen Jin. While his heart plummeted at the distress he witnessed, another feeling, completely different in nature, threatened to break him as well: they'd been given a second chance.

"Jin." Hwoarang approached and embraced him.

Jin clutched onto him, and Hwoarang gladly let him. The shaking man in his arms was the finest gift he could have asked for. They stayed like that, holding each other upright and drinking in the warmth and acceptance their sheer presences conveyed. It was an eternity before they allowed each other to let go, and even then, their hands stayed locked tightly as they perched on the carpeted floor, intent on holding on, even when if made it their poses less comfortable.

"Tell me what happened."

Jin shook his head and looked away, and, for a moment, Hwoarang thought he wasn't going to get an answer. Then, Jin spoke, "I couldn't do it. I went there and wanted to finish it. My mother... She would have been disappointed. It would have killed her to know that I... that I wanted to murder..."

Jin didn't need to finish the sentence. Patricide had a nasty ring to it, even in the Mishima family. The story of Jun Kazama, then, Hwoarang had never gotten in full, and now was a poor time to ask, when Jin seemed to be in some kind of a shock, rambling incoherently.

"...a disgrace... "

Hwoarang gave Jin's hand so hard a squeeze it cut him off. "No one's dead? They didn't see you?"

Jin gave a look of incomprehension.

"The plan. No one saw you?"

Jin shook his head.

"Good. Listen, you try to shut up about that disgrace talk, and I'll find us a meal. This shack has room service or something, right? Never mind, don't even answer that. Let me..." Hwoarang rose, but Jin's forlorn gaze and clutch on his hand stopped him. Hwoarang bent back down and spoke in a very different, very gentle tone, "Jin... You're alive, and nobody else is dead. Everything's all right, and you didn't kill anyone. That's all that matters. You'll see once your head clears. It's little muddled up there right now, but you'll see." Hwoarang brushed Jin's jaw line lightly and gave him an encouraging half-smile.

He didn't make it standing when Jin had already pulled him down to face him, and the problem dawned on Hwoarang. He could have lost himself so easily just in looking at Kazama. Funny how looking each other in the eyes had lost its old meaning of a challenge just like that. Hwoarang reproached himself mentally; he was slipping again. Instead, he leaned forward and captured Jin's lips with his and found the owner of the said lips reciprocating eagerly. "Fine?"

"Yeah...," Jin breathed and let him go.

* * *

Luckily, there was catering available, and, as their orders arrived, Hwoarang ushered Jin out of the way and cleared the bill. As Jin finally emerged from the bathroom, looking more balanced already, he met the food with the enthusiasm of a famished man. Hwoarang found it hard to keep a straight face at the sight of Jin downing a bowl of rice as if it were a drink.

Jin caught himself. "I—"

"Nice to know you're enjoying it," Hwoarang remarked with blithe unconcern and a sly glance. He didn't hide his chuckling as Jin dug into a bowl of meat, sheepish.

They enjoyed the meal in silence and, once finished, settled for a lie-down. "We don't have to go anywhere," Hwoarang reasoned, "and I could use some rest." Whoever said the Blood Talon wasn't discreet, making as though this was about him?

Obligingly, Jin tailed him to share a bed, and they made a warm, comfortable bundle of each other and the available blankets. Smotheringly hot, the embrace was still soothing enough to make Hwoarang drowsy and follow Jin, who had drifted off easily.

* * *

They woke hours later, when Jin stirred and woke Hwoarang with him. They lay down lazily, moving only to steal occasional glances in each other's directions, and reveled in the pretense that they could stay like this for all eternity. All around was quiet; not even the streets or the corridors of the hotel carried noise.

"We should stay a couple of days," Hwoarang suggested finally. "Keep the room, take our time."

"That might be best," Jin agreed. Neither made a note how the address was still "we" even after the joint mission was aborted. Jin's hair tickled Hwoarang, as he stretched himself and yawned before sinking into the bed again, and this time it was Hwoarang keeping an eye on him, finding the sight of a content Jin Kazama curiously moving.

Quickly, he said, "I'll go and book a couple extra days. You need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. Really."

"I'll go. See if you can drag yourself out of bed today."

As an answer, Kazama burrowed into the sheets and let out a gratified sigh. Chuckling to himself, Hwoarang straightened his clothes and snatched the keys. On his way to the reception, he noticed a Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the doorknob.

* * *

Jin was up when Hwoarang returned.

"Back to the living?"

"Somewhat. I'm awake, honestl—" Jin's reply was cut off by another yawn.

"I can see that." Hwoarang leaned onto a wall, his hands sneaking in his pockets, and observed Jin from a distance, a smug expression on his face.

Jin shot him a reproachful look, but crossed the distance nonetheless. They stood face to face, and Hwoarang couldn't help his hands detaching themselves from his jeans and coming to rest on Jin's hips. As Jin leaned forward, he was more than keen for the touch of lips on his. The mood picked up quickly; the air came to have a pinch of electricity in it.

The shreds of tiredness left Jin, who pressed onto Hwoarang, only to have strong arms pull him closer still. Lips searching and hands roaming, they could have bored through a thin wall. Jin rocked his hips against Hwoarang's, who moaned. While Hwoarang strove to be rid of his vest, a pair of hands searched for his jeans and knuckles bore into his stomach as the fingers kept working the belt buckle and the fly of the jeans. Jin broke a kiss to look for permission in Hwoarang's eyes, though he didn't need to.

The intimate undressing alone sent jolts through the Korean. Just as Jin's mouth seized his again, Hwoarang's pants and underwear were pulled down. His privates were exposed to the air, cool by comparison to the comfort of clothes, but that didn't stop his feeling every bit as aroused. Hwoarang brought his hands down to reciprocate, but Jin withdrew and nudged his hands away.

"I do care about you," Jin said. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

With a last, soft touch of lips, Jin kneeled, maintaining an unwavering eye contact with Hwoarang, who barely registered the turn of events. A shiver of anticipation ran through his body when he did, barely in time for him to see how Jin finally broke the gaze, a smile caressing his lips. A hand gripped Hwoarang.

As the hot mouth made contact with the sensitive skin, Hwoarang arched against the wall and moaned, "Jin..."

* * *

_To Be Continued..._

_Hearty thanks_ to _Gypsie_ for the proofreading!

_Published_ October 21, 2008.


	3. Last Night on Earth, One

**Notes**: Thanks for reading, and thank you so much for the reviews!

Welcome to the end.

* * *

**Last Night on Earth**

by Salysha

* * *

**One**

"Jin...," Hwoarang moaned and arched against the wall.

The man turned.

"_Hwarang_?" The man was desperate to believe that Hwoarang had spoken to him. "Hwoarang?" he tried. One more time, he knelt in front of the man who had been his best and brightest student. "It is I, Baek Doo San. _Sa bum nim_."

A lifetime of training didn't stop the tightness that rose in Baek's throat, as Hwoarang kept looking somewhere past him. Even when the distressed stare landed on him, no recognition dawned and no acknowledgement of another person passed. It was like there was nothing there.

Baek forced himself back in control. "I will be back to see you, _Hwarang_," he said and touched Hwoarang's knee lightly. It had no effect, but Baek hoped it registered somewhere.

A knock on the door alerted a staff member, who unlocked the door and allowed Baek to leave the blanched cell. His heart was heavy, and, at first, he didn't notice the dark figure who had observed them through the one-sided mirror.

The figure shifted then. Nonplused, Baek recognized the profile of Jin Kazama. As Jin tore his eyes off the view and faced him fully, Baek controlled his visage with difficulty at seeing the brutal gashes that tarnished one side of the youthful face. He couldn't tell if his shock had registered with Jin; he saw only his own reflection dance on the lenses of the mirror shades.

"Baek Doo San," Jin greeted in a raspy voice and bowed.

"Jin Kazama." Baek couldn't fathom what business the heir to the Mishima fortunes had here, but before he could say more, a nurse barged in with a file in her hands and spoke machinegun-speed Japanese, which Baek couldn't follow.

"Speak English!"

The nurse jumped from the harsh tone and eyed Baek uncertainly for support, but Jin's commanding presence took its toll, and she switched languages a little awkwardly. The test results had come in, after a month—she rushed on at seeing Jin's frown—and she sought to explain them as best as she could.

The words flowed in and out, until something caught Jin's attention. "Excuse me? Repeat."

"It seems that the explosion released toxic-induced chemicals, which mixed with the unidentified substance in his system. Together, they caused the current condition."

Baek interrupted, "'Unidentified substance?' I do not understand."

The nurse sucked at her lips nervously and looked at Jin, but Jin wasn't looking at her. "It seems that the patient was taking substances. Narcotics or drugs," she said in a small voice.

"That is impossible!"

Jin said nothing, but his mind echoed Baek's rage. Then, in a flash, the pieces connected. _It wasn't possible..._ After a heavy silence, he said, "You cannot identify this substance?"

"No. It's been too long."

"If this is a...," Jin sought the words, "chemical imbalance, why do you not use something to counteract it?"

The nurse looked even more woeful and eyed Baek frightfully. She now deemed him the bigger threat out of two equally intimidating choices and took her chances with the younger menace. "It's not possible. His brain chemistry is so out of balance, we can't use any medication. There is nothing to try..." As the words sank in, she continued, "We haven't had a patient in a padded cell for years. Medication helps almost everyone these days. At least he's comfortable..." Her voice faded.

Finally, Jin took the file from her and spoke, "Leave." He flipped through the files and landed on the toxicology report, which confirmed the nurse's words. _Unidentified substance. Illicit drug, narcotic, or sedative._ He hadn't heard that before. He hadn't known that a substance in his circulation had caused the final breakdown. Jin swallowed.

_It didn't matter. _

Jin flipped another page.

_It wouldn't matter. _

"I don't understand what he was doing there." The pain seeped through Baek's voice and distracted Jin momentarily. "I don't understand why he went there."

Jin knew why: Hwoarang had come after him at the critical moment. He couldn't tell that to Baek Doo San; he couldn't cast the burden on him, and so he remained quiet.

_It shouldn't have mattered._ He cast the file from his hands and turned to look through the other room. Unsurprisingly, Hwoarang still sat on the floor, occasionally mumbling something and moving restlessly. Luckily, the mirror shades masked any emotions in Jin's eyes.

A burly, older guard joined them. Chosen for his position at the institution for his physical prowess rather than social skills or philanthropy, he paid his respects to Jin Kazama lavishly and showed equally low courtesy to Baek Doo San, whom he eyed with as much hostility as his upbringing would allow.

"Typical. I always get these," the guard sneered. "Foreign trash."

The mirror shades flicked in the man's direction sharply, but Jin remained in place. Baek Doo San's eyes narrowed, but he sought to calm his breathing. The man's qualm was not with him or with Hwoarang, but with history. He had seen it before many a time. To the victor, the spoils and the guilt for generations to come.

"That one." The man pointed a finger at Hwoarang. "He keeps saying 'gin,' whatever that means. Probably some Korean filth..."

Baek Doo San flinched, but he controlled his temper. He was only visiting here; Hwoarang would have to stay for the unforeseeable future. He was so intent on controlling himself, he didn't realize how Jin had moved like a flash and was holding the guard up in the air by the front of his jacket with one hand.

"One more insult out of you," Jin hissed, "and you will pay."

The man was paralyzed. He was barely able to comprehend that he was being held up in the air by a man who, by any rights, couldn't have been that strong.

Jin's back was turned to Baek as he reached for his glasses and lowered them. "Do you understand?" Jin said softly.

The tone made shivers run through Baek, who watched the display in shocked awe, and through the guard, who tried to recoil helplessly. Though Jin held him by his jacket front, the guard's breath hitched in his throat. He made a choking sound, and tears rose in his eyes. His fervent attempts to nod turned to whimpering. Jin laughed.

Baek found his voice. _"Onegai shimasu, Kazama Jin!"_

Jin's eyes swept over to the cell in a moment of hesitation that did not escape Baek. He loosened his grip and the man dropped, landing hard and taking damage on the knees, which weren't prepared for the impact. Jin readjusted the glasses before facing Baek.

Baek wanted to pose questions, but he couldn't see Jin's eyes. It wasn't possible to converse with a man in whose soul one couldn't see into, and so he remained silent. Something remained unsaid, but before either could act on it, a new, deep voice sounded.

"Make haste, _son_."

The arrival acknowledged Baek with a dismayed nod before ignoring him completely. Baek found himself staring at the very alive Kazuya Mishima, who sported a long, flapping coat and a pair of sunglasses. Not only did his attire strangely mimic Jin's, but similar scarring graced the skin exposed to view, making the harsh-looking Kazuya an even more frightening sight than before.

"_Father_ expects us."

The words were courteous and correct, but the tone oozed venom. The Mishima family had developed veiled insults to an art form.

"Good day, Master Baek." Jin left with a bow.

Baek watched father and son leave and decided to follow them; he had little left to do here. He trailed them through the hallways and into the entrance hall. There, he saw a third figure join them, limping noticeably despite his proud and tall posture. Neither moved to his support.

Side by side, the three generations left the building. Just as they exited the institution, Jin turned back and looked straight at Baek, who couldn't fathom how Jin could have known he was there. The Mishimas didn't slow down, and after a long, veiled gaze, the significance of which Baek couldn't understand despite realizing it was significant somehow, Jin left.

Jin was now the only one who knew the truth. Yet, as he turned to follow in Kazuya and Heihachi's footsteps, no one could've told he was any different to them.

The Devil had kept Jin alive, but nothing had saved him from dying.

**THE END**

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_O__negai shimasu_ means _please_ (Japanese, formal).  
The spelling _Hwarang_ emulates the native Korean pronunciation, while _sa bum nim_ means _master_ or _instructor_.

**Hearty thanks** to **Gypsie** for the proofreading! Thanks go out to **TeaC0sy**, **Razer Athane**, and **BloodTalonbafoon** for their help as well.

**Published** November 24, 2008.

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Concluding Notes:

Chapter _Two_ was make-believe.

Heartfelt thanks to **Gypsie** (Gypsie Rose) for proofreading the entire story!

My sincere thanks to all reviewers—**Amarant Rose Coral**, **JunKing**, **Razer Athane**, **TeaC0sy**, **MeiShan**, **Insomnia Zombie**, **HOIME G**, and **BloodTalonbafoon—**for your thoughtful comments and for taking the time to write them.

The "unidentified substance" was the drug Jin slipped in Hwoarang's drink at the end of the first chapter.

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Your reviews are valued, no matter how old the story. Thanks for reading!


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